


How Sweet

by salvadore



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Coda, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvadore/pseuds/salvadore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes her longer than it should to realize, but she blames that on the shock of having shot someone. </p><p>Penelope needs her boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Season 9 spoilers (?)

Getting back from Texas, Penelope finds her apartment too small and not nearly as bright or as colorful as she remembers leaving it. Even after she goes out and purchases more tea lights and strings of colored lanterns, something feels off. And she knows it's not just the ringing in her ears that has her tugging on her earlobes in frustration while she makes funny wide mouthed faces in the bathroom mirror. And it's not just the confusing feelings she has about having shot someone. Those two things she understands, mostly.

It starts to make her uneasy when it's been five days and she can't seem to shake the feeling. It hangs in the corners of her apartment like a shadow she can't get direct enough light at. It's a peripheral sensation with no discernible cause, and it nags at her twenty-four/seven. Even when Sam comes over and holds her in the middle of her couch; it's undeterred by their Disney movie marathon and the comforting press of Sam's fingers against her bare skin where he's tucked them under the hem of her shirt.

It's just beginning to drive her crazy when she has her aha-moment in the middle of Quantico hallway. She looks down at how her hands are shaking around the files destined for Derek's desk and wonders how she didn't notice that was happening. Aloud she says, "Oh, Penelope Garcia."

And then. Her voice changes from chastising to awe-struck when she speaks again.

“You beautiful genius,” she says, and imagines patting herself on her back. Holding the files close to her chest, she sets off with determination to find Derek. She has her bounce back in her step as she goes.

 -

Derek agrees to her plans so readily it almost makes Penelope flush. He doesn't protest when she throws the files on his desk or argue when she calls Reid's apartment stuffy and poorly lit. He even agrees to pick up party-favors for her, grinning at her as he stands up, already moving to put her plans in action, pulling on his leather jacket and ignoring the paperwork he had her deliver. Derek says, “Those can wait,” and grins at her, flipping up his collar, as if he wasn't looking for an excuse to avoid paperwork anyway.

He slings his arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to the top of her head right before he goes, murmuring, “Leave it to me, baby girl,” in that soft, loving tone that makes her knees go wobbly. And then he's leaving with a grin and a wink, taking his scent of leather and aftershave with him. Penelope fans herself with one of the files while she watches him go, and smiles wickedly for the first time since Texas. The sensation that washes over her is relief.

She doesn't want to go back to her apartment alone, the unease is only just buried under a lot of warmth joy that feels like Derek's fingers brushing against her skin accidentally and the laughter lines around his eyes crinkling when she explained her plans for the evening to him. But it's a start, one she is by-all-means taking and she scurries out as well.

She barely manages not to topple in her heels, and nearly shoulder-checks Rossi in her rush, but that's all part of the victory.

- 

Reid, of course, makes a fuss. A sweet and well-intentioned fuss, but one none-the-less. Penelope catches the tail end of it, looking up as Derek guides Reid through the front door of her apartment, grinning and rolling his eyes as he corrals Reid through the door one-handed, hefting a party-favors bag in the other. Reid keeps trying to turn, hands waving about at his and Derek's face level as he tries to express how unnecessary it all is. Spouting statistics on gunshot wounds, surely, and Derek is smiling, placating. When he catches Penelope looking, Derek rolls his eyes amusedly, eyes crinkling after as he shuts the door behind Reid.

“Mon Cher, get your cute butt in here!” Penelope calls.

“What she said, Pretty boy,” Derek says, voice a low rumble that makes Penelope's toes curl pleasantly. He gets Reid so he's walking straight toward Penelope, finally. She looks and Reid's cheeks are flushed. And he's lingering in the doorway with Derek's whole palm pressed against his lower back, probably, and Penelope thinks Reid's even leaning into the touch. It gives her the warm fuzzies, knowing all too well how it feels when Derek's got a hold on your heartstrings and doesn't even know it.

“What she said about my butt being cute?” Reid quips, belatedly, scooting out of Derek's reach with a grin, head ducking like it's the early days and Derek might, playfully, swat him upside the head.

Reid's still got a bandage wrapped around his neck, and with the blazer he's wearing he looks too much like Vincent Price not to make Penelope smile. Especially when he's been distracted by the little umbrellas Penelope has spread out on the kitchen counter and is opening one up with the glee of a kid.

“What butt, kid?” Derek teases, slipping around Reid with a comforting hand on his arm, taking a millisecond to pat at Reid affectionately, sympathetically, and setting the bag down on the counter before getting his arms around Penelope in a hug and a, “Hey, Baby Girl,” murmured against her hairline, preceding a kiss there. Penelope holds him back, nose pressed to Derek's neck and her eyes closed. The relief swells in her chest again, and she breathes easier.

She swats Derek away eventually so she can get her arms on Reid, careful of grabbing too hard just in case. Her heart maybe grows two sizes at the way Reid laughs in her arms, full and honest as he wraps his arms around her shoulders. She even slips her arms under his blazer; she can almost touch her elbows with her arms wrapped tight around Reid's skinny frame.

Penelope wouldn't normally hold on so tight for so long, aware and careful of Reid's touch capacity, as she likes to call it in her head, but he's not pulling away either. He's even running his hand reassuringly back and forth between her shoulder blades, so she stays there.

Even after Derek presses his big hand against her hip, lips close to her cheek while he whispers her name. She's not crying, _you're crying,_ _Derek Morgan_ , she thinks, squeezing a little tighter at Reid.

She never meant to get this teary and clingy.

Reid stumbles and staggers in the hold but doesn't push her away, snorting out a laugh and even hanging on tighter. His touch is warm through her layers and her skin zings at every point they're touching. Sounding confused, but sincere, Reid says, “Uh, I love you too, Garcia.”

When Penelope draws back, letting Reid go so she can push her glasses up and wipe away the tears that have caught on her cheekbones,she surprised to find Reid only lets her go with one arm. She laughs out, a sudden sound drawn out of her by Reid keeping her close as he grins down at her. His bangs are falling into his eyes, and she wants to push them back.

She smiles wetly and slides her palms down Reid's chest saying, “You shouldn't wear a white shirt with that bandage, sweetie. You look like you're wearing a turtle-neck and mama no-like-y.”

Penelope doesn't say how glad she is to see some color in Reid's cheeks, or how reassuring his fingers curled around her hip are. Or how much she wants to kiss Derek right now for getting out the dollar-store party favors and pushing a sparky pair of sunglasses on Reid's face when she's made space between her and Reid for him to reach. Reid looks ridiculous, crossing his eyes to look at the item. The blue film faking it as lenses make his eyes look darker. It's sweet.

Penelope throws umbrellas in the virgin margaritas while Derek and Reid smile at each other, probably. They're definitely smiling when she turns back around, presenting the margaritas with a flourish and a “Tah-dah!”

“Non-alcoholic drinks for boy geniuses with boo-boos and his compadres staying sober in solidarity!” Penelope proclaims. “Now take off that blazer and take a drink!”

 -

It all goes the way she pictured; getting Reid pressed between her and Derek on the couch is met only with a quizzical look. One she easily mollifies with a second drink, extra salt, and a kiss to Reid's cheek.

When she says, “Normally I love to cuddle up between the two of you, soaking up your worshipful adoration, you're the guest of honor,” Reid snorts, smothering the sound with pursed lips pressed against the salted rim of his glass. The sound is worth it. Derek must think so too; he leans back on the couch to catch Penelope's gaze, smiling behind a pair of glittery sunglasses like the ones on Reid, but gold.

They've gotten the cardboard cut-out palm trees taped to the walls, unlit tiki torches by the doorways, and the DVD menu is looping appropriate holiday theme music. Reid's leant forward, remote in hand, picture of interest, but he's watching Penelope out of the corner of his eye. He's ditched the blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his button up shirt; Reid's hair is a mess from where Derek teasingly ruffled it not long after they sat down. Derek's arm is thrown across the back of the couch.

As soon as she sits down, Penelope knows they'll be squished together to fit. She put extra throws on the couch to take up space so the three of them had to cuddle, and more than likely both men saw through the tactic and chose to sit on the couch anyway. Penelope stares at them long enough that Reid sits back to look at her as well.

Looking at Reid with his faintly polka-dot shirt, and grinning like he's as excited as she is about a sixties beach movie.

Looking at Derek with his finger crooking, beckoning her in as he says, huskily, “Come on, mama.”

Penelope thinks, ah, there it is. And lets Derek draw her in.

 -

Derek's fingers rest pleasantly against Penelope's bare neck if she leans close. She does.

She watches Derek watching Reid. Reid's lips are moving as he murmur out the dialogue under his breath, completely in sync with the movie, and Penelope wonders when he saw this movie. And wonders when he learned French.

It's all Penelope can do to not cry, happily. She squeezes in close and when the scene changes, and Reid sits back, shoulders jostling with hers and Derek's for a moment before they find the right way to sit, all slotted together and touching. Penelope slips her hand into Reid's and Reid laces their fingers together without question, setting their hands on his thigh.

He's smiling at her so sweetly, Penelope whispers, “I just don't like it when you're away on medical leave,” but not quietly enough for it to go unheard.

Reid laughs, and says, “Me neither,” before turning back to the movie.

Derek runs reassuring touches with his knuckles against Penelope's arm. He's watching the movie with the glitter sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. And his brows are furrowed like he's paying attention, but Penelope knows that look. And she knows Derek's listening to them. That he missed Reid too, worried even about Reid alone in his apartment with his stacks of books. Maybe even worried as much as Penelope herself.

She watches Derek curl his arm so he can play with with the hair at the back of Reid's neck. Her eyes are trained on the way Derek's thumb sweeps back and forth slowly against the sensitive skin just below Reid's hair line. And Penelope snuggles in close. She hooks her foot around Reid's ankle in lieu of leaning her head on his shoulder, and settles in for ninety-minutes of Derek reassures himself of their safety by alternating gentle touches of his fingers to hers and Reid's skin.


End file.
